


Maker-given Rule-breaking

by darkflameoracle



Series: Better to be Hunted With You [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Hawke, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Extended Scene, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Anders, Wholesome af, rogue hawke - Freeform, vaguely white hawke? but also kinda purple?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 02:05:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13753977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkflameoracle/pseuds/darkflameoracle
Summary: "If your door is open tonight, I will come to you. If not... I'll know you took my warning at last."Despite Anders's words echoing in his mind, Hawke almost expects for Anders to never come. The hour is long past midnight, and the fire on the hearth in his bedroom dips low. Bodahn and Orana have long since gone to bed, and his heart is beginning to falter as the room grows dimmer. Perhaps Anders's warning had been more than that, rather a warning to himself. The door was left unlocked, Hawke was certain. Will he ever come?- - - - - - - - - - -In which after Hawke invites Anders to live with him at the estate the pair have their first sexual encounter together to consummate their newly shared bed. It quickly comes to be known that Hawke does not have nearly as much game in bed as he projects outward while flirting with people. Lucky for Hawke, Anders has quite a lot of experience giving men a good time...Updated with minor edits 4/29/2018





	Maker-given Rule-breaking

**Author's Note:**

> It's plot oriented -- I even pulled from cutscenes for some of the dialogue -- but by no means is it boring to read. It's one of those bits that has me wanting to romance Anders again, anyhow, but that only takes up about 500 words of it. :D 
> 
> Special thanks to Alice for cheering me on while writing this. It's my first piece of smut -- ever -- so I kinda needed it.

_"If your door is open tonight, I will come to you. If not... I'll know you took my warning at last."_

Despite Anders's words echoing in his mind, Hawke almost expects for Anders to never come. The hour is long past midnight, and the fire on the hearth in his bedroom dips low. Bodahn and Orana have long since gone to bed, and his heart is beginning to falter as the room grows dimmer. Perhaps Anders's warning had been more than that, rather a warning to himself. The door was left unlocked, Hawke is certain. _Will he ever come?_

The sound of footsteps disturbs him from his thoughts with a patter of heartbeat in his chest. The soft padding of leather on stonework approach, and Hawke glances up, his eyes wide and relieved. A smile toys at the mage's lips, a fleeting indication of joy.

"You're here," says Hawke, a similar smile surfacing on his face. "I thought you'd never come."

He is breathless, his heartbeat quick with excitement and love, providing a senseless level of anxiety through his extremities. The fingers of his bowstring hand fiddle together. He could never stay still when around Anders. The older healer notices this, it seems, as he makes his approach with lighter footsteps to settle before the fire.

"Justice does not approve of my _obsession_ with you. He believes you are a distraction. It is one of the few things on which he and I disagree." Anders's expression reads pain, but his words speak of a longing fire in his heart.

"I'm glad you came." Hawke's voice is little more than a whisper.

Gentle, patient, Anders takes a couple steps to close the gap between them. He smells faintly of dirt and musk and underlying that are more unpalatable scents of something sharp like vomit and something rancid Hawke can't put his thumb on, but none of this stops Hawke from caring so deeply for him. Work must have been hard at the clinic that day. The templars had been paying too many visits to be safe as it was.

"When I was in the Circle, love was only a game. It gave the templars too much power if there was something you couldn't stand to lose." Anders averts his gaze abruptly. He is vulnerable, his cognac eyes on the ground, avoiding contact. "It would kill me to lose you."

"You aren't going to lose me," says Hawke, making his approach to his love.

It sounds nearly like a threat. There's an anger, an unshakable, unfettered intensity on his tone. Maker, he didn't mean for it to sound bad, he didn't mean for it to be a bad thing that he would do anything to defend Anders from the templars, just as he had with his sister, just as he did with Merrill and would have done for his father if he'd any ability to.

"No mage I know has ever dared to fall in love..." Anders slips his hand up alongside Hawke's cheek, tousling his long fingers tenderly into his hair. "This is the rule I will most cherish breaking."

The pair embraces, and exchange a soft, impassioned kiss. Hawke is hesitant about his motions, he understands the heat behind his cheeks even without having any experience on the matter of bedroom romances, but he knows he isn’t comfortable on his feet, without knowing what to do with his hands or his lips. Then there was the matter of his uncomfortably tented trousers, making it far too obvious what sort of things he desires. He guides the blond over to his bed by a tentative touch exchanged on the ends of their fingers.

Hawke is cautious, but Anders is gentle and composed; he kisses softly, peppering his lips in expert, practiced precision as they recline against the soft duvet. Like so much else that Anders does, his kisses are nigh on scientific, but Hawke doesn't know if he even really minds, here. He needs to learn, he feels.

He pulls away, slow enough Hawke can feel the warmth of his breath in a drunken heat. "Garrett?" he whispers, and it startles Hawke to hear his name come so easily from Anders's lips.

"Yeah?"

The healer traces his fingers along his jawline, along the border between his beard and skin in a simple action that sends a shiver up Hawke's spine. "I just don't want you to feel at all uncomfortable. I've done this many a time... and I get the impression you can't say the same."

A ghost of laughter leaves Hawke's chest, and he knows his virginal nervousness is all too apparent in his unnaturally shy demeanor. He offers a fleeting smile with another breath of laughter behind it. Garrett Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, a virgin, an inexperienced man in bed? That's a story that Varric would avoid, that was for absolute certain.

"It's alright," Anders reassures in a velveteen tone. "I don't mind. I was a virgin once myself – everyone was. First times are special for everything – the first time I tasted freedom..." He places a gentle kiss between Hawke's jaw and ear, sending blossoming fire building in his chest. "… the first time I felt love..." His lips trail upward, and his voice softens. "… the first time I felt your safety..."

A shudder of pleasure runs through Hawk as Anders grazes his teeth along the cusp of his ear, and his eyes roll back a little, enough that it blurs the ruggedly handsome image of the mage looking down kindly at him with warm, molten eyes.

"Let me get the door."

Anders climbs off the bed, leaving Hawke alone and cold and propping himself up on one elbow to watch him if only to make certain he wouldn't leave. As soon as the door shuts, the mage unbuttons and shrugs off his coat. In one smooth action, he allows it to fall into an unkempt pile of feathers and cloth on the floor, which left behind his trousers and loose robes underneath. Just enough to keep Hawke from seeing anything too revealing, but _by the Maker_ it didn't matter. Hawke had never seen Anders out of that coat, and it is a sign to the rogue that the mage was finally relaxing, finally willing to close that last bit of distance between them emotionally.

Soon enough, Anders is back with Hawke, on the bed, curling around his lover just enough to be protective. Hawke rolls back over onto his back like a cat, idly suggesting his affection and submission, and Anders takes the cue to roll on top, supported by his hands and knees, one of which rest dangerously close to his crotch. With a slow and purposeful bend to his position, Anders leans in for another soft kiss.

"Please tell me if I go too far, Garrett."

But this isn't too far by any stretch. All Hawke knows in this moment is a grand swell of want and desire – for what, he has no words to vocalize. It takes only a slight shift of Anders's position for him to edge the trousers encircling Hawke's waist down over his hips. He does all this one-handed, as if the lot of that had been practiced. (Knowing Anders, it likely had been practiced in the Circle, if with no one else, with Karl before him.) The cold air of the bedroom against his hardened cock makes him ache for breath with a bit of a startled gasp, but when Anders encircles a warm hand along its length, his eyes close, and for a long moment, several tender strokes, all Hawke knows is ecstasy.

Wantonly, greedily, Hawke presses himself into Anders's silken-calloused palm and his shoulders deeper into the bed for more leverage. The motion was so nice, all the sensations pleasurable and filling his head with a needy, begging _want_. Anders _stops,_ and Hawke's eyes flicker open, eyes pleading – the job was left half-finished and still he could feel an aroused throb from his genitals. Despite his smarm in the streets, he found himself resorting to a keening whimper, to which the medic only smiled and chuckled, a serene crinkle of crows' feet at the edges of his eyes.

"A... Anders, what the blighted hell?" He pants and props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at the grin plastered across his lover's face.

"Patience, love," he chides, and slips off his shirt to discard it across the room somewhere. Hawke isn't quite sure where it's landed, but he figures if he needs to lend Anders a shirt it wouldn't be a terrible ordeal. "I'm trying to run you through the paces... give you a time we won't forget; that sounds nice, doesn't it?"

Hawke has little breath to speak, but he nods shyly, ready to undertake whatever it is Anders has planned for him.

With delicate fingers, Anders continues to undo the belt of Hawke's tunic before tossing it off in the same haphazard manner he had thrown his own shirt. And in an aggressive way, though not lacking in tenderness, Anders cranes over Hawke and kisses him more, deeper, with virile grunts and needy moans. If Anders hadn't been so quick to move through these motions, Hawke may have cracked a joke, but perhaps now is not the time. The skin on skin contact is simultaneously enticing and soothing, and Anders's arms around him warm him with a paramour's love. A strong hand against his cheek reminds him who is in control, but also who loves him dearer than anyone. Hawke hums into the kiss following.

"Give me... more..." Hawke pleads as Anders trails with teeth and soft lips down his throat. He doesn't quite know what "more" might entail, but he knows he wants it.

Anders's lips, tongue and nibbling teeth trail down his chest, swirl about a nipple, then trail further to his belly button, hands following the whole way, leaving in their wakes a trail of goose bumps prickling along Hawke's abdomen. Then he does something Hawke doesn't expect – moves in and encloses gentle lips around his cock. The fingers had been one thing; he had anticipated that much, as he'd done his own share of attempting to pleasure himself on his own time with varying levels of success, but this was divine, a gift from the Maker.

Hands moved by desire grip into Anders's hair as his head bobs slow, caressing the sides of him with a diligent tongue. Hawke's hips buck up into him, as if to control the slow, tantalizing motion of his own volition, but Anders presses his forearm against his squirming form in such a way that to move under him would take far more effort than simply grinding his hips into his lover's mouth. He grunts softly and squirms under Anders's body weight. Now more than ever, he wants Anders terribly; he wants to _kiss_ him even moreso.

He is worked to adequate levels, in Anders's eyes, apparently, when at long last, his squirming unseats Anders from his dutiful suckling. Brown eyes twinkling, blond locks of hair shimmering golden in the low firelight, disheveled, he looks every bit as holy as Andraste, Hawke thinks dimly. A reverent smile passes his lips.

"Well then," Anders says, smiling. He wipes away his saliva and Hawke's precum from his lips with an unceremonious swipe of the back of his hand. "You seem to have some fight in you now."

"I'm just learning," Hawke answers. He tugs the small mage by the tousle of his hair back down for a hungry kiss. "Can you imagine if I had more experience?"

Anders leans into the kiss with joy and offers another in response to his cheeky remarks. "Believe me, I _plan_ on giving you experience, my love."

One fluid movement, just as he had with the coat earlier, Anders removes the remnants of Hawke's clothes – trousers and smallclothes included. This (as if nothing else had so far this evening) impresses Hawke quite a bit. For a moment, he just watches Anders in a stunned silence as his hands glow a yellow green to produce oil, which he rubs across his hands.

"Would you like to give something else a try?"

Hawke hadn't the slightest idea what else there might be to try, but Anders is the more experienced one here. Anders has the answers of whatever questions he poses, and in turn, Hawke understands he must trust his love's judgement, now of all times. So, he nods, a solemn, hesitant nod, and Anders laughs under his breath.

"It will be so much better than you expect. You ought to relax, alright? Now roll over."

Anders's tone is encouraging, but not demeaning; excited, but just reserved enough to take it slow. He peppers the back of his neck and shoulders in careful kisses before rimming his greased fingers around Hawke's asshole, then plunging one in up to the second knuckle.

Hawke yelps, startled by the act, but it doesn't feel violating; it feels surprisingly good as Anders toys with the interior of his ass. His chest heaves, breath pants. 

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" Anders coos.

"N... No... please.... Keep going."

And thus, Anders does. He slips in another finger, then another, taking his time about offering a fond rhythm of ecstasy for his partner. Hawke is almost disappointed, too, when Anders takes a pause in his cadence to pull his hand out, to fiddle around a bit behind Hawke, shift and reorient. He is about to complain when Anders presses his cock against his ass, teases it around a little, then presses into him until their bodies are flush against each other, and Hawke sighs in relief. Anders closes his hand around his cock from his position humping him from behind and trails a loose string of kisses along Hawke's shoulder and neck.

Very quickly, the lot of it becomes overwhelming. Blinded by this pleasing sensation of being filled and fondled, Hawke emits a plaintive moan as the bed dampens with his cum, his whole body tensing and riding out the rapture of orgasm.

Anders rides on for a few short minutes, though slower in pace until he comes with a delighted, shuddering gasp, and rolls over to pull out. Hawke follows suit with the rolling over part, and as he shifts his body across the bed, he notes the crusting white goop on the duvet covers. He immediately feels bad for Orana, who would likely have to clean it up after everything was said and done; though the likelihood of her having already cleaned up messes far worse in her days back in Tevinter are quite high, Hawke would rather not treat her as poorly as he's certain she already had been, the poor girl.

With a nuzzle of his nose, Hawke cuddles up to Anders's back. "Welcome home, my love," he mumbles into the nape of the mage's neck, reveling in the pleasant warmth of lust.

A resonant hum rumbles through Anders's chest. "You are far too kind, Garrett."

"Says the man that just made my knees quake like a newborn foal."

That hum turns into a laugh, and Anders tips over to look Hawke in the eyes, very lovingly, very kind. The pair bend in for one more kiss before Anders drapes a blanket over them, and they drift off, entangled in their nakedness, but not minding in the least.


End file.
